


midnight kiss

by distancing_reality



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Zutara, basically Katara being in love with him, essentially au (she's not with Aang), fluff/angst I think, she loves his scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distancing_reality/pseuds/distancing_reality
Summary: Katara studies Zuko’s scar as he sleeps.





	midnight kiss

_\---midnight kiss---_

His lips were imperfect, yet they were perfect to kiss. 

His eyebrows were uneven, yet the way they creased when he frowned earned a grin from her. 

His scar was ugly and rough to the touch, yet each time she saw it her hands twitched to reach up and stroke the burned skin. 

But when she touched him suddenly or without warning, he would flinch. 

Times like this brought a painful ache to her chest. Curled around him, placing soft kisses on his forehead as he slept, she could study the things that made him who he was. Even in sleep he was guarded; even with her. Times like this she could touch him without fear of his discomfort. While he slept his body leaned into her touch in a way he would stiffen in wakefulness. Katara brushed inky strands of hair from his smooth cheek and let her fingers linger. His lips were closed tightly and his eyelids fluttered as though he were sleeping shallowly. 

She rubbed her own eyes where the shadows had begun to creep and yawned deeply. Fatigue hovered against her shoulders inviting her to close her eyes and rest: to sink into the warm bed and into his gentle embrace, but she pushed the drowsiness away. Although it made no difference to his nightmares, she was his guardian angel watching over him while he was unable to watch over himself. 

Tracing a pattern across his jaw, Katara studied the burn scar. The skin that stretched tautly over the hollow of his eye was still welted and red, even after a decade of healing. It looked painful but when asked about it he would reassure that it didn't hurt. That skin was dead, he could feel nothing. 

Tentatively, she bent her head and softly kissed his cheek; the rough scar tickled her mouth. She would never grow tired of lying here next to him. Flawed as he was, she loved him for every imperfection, every hesitation.

**Author's Note:**

> I have different sets of headcanons, like “these three are true in this version of the show, but if I’m in a different mood these two are true.” Is it just me?


End file.
